~ gettin' by on a wing and a prayer

Monthly Archives: April 2011

I have absolutely no motivation to blog, which isn’t surprising considering I have absolutely no motivation to do anything else either (except, apparently, to eat candy and loathe myself. oh, and laugh my ASS off at this website. If you’re bored, sad, lonely, or just need a good laugh, trust me, it’ll do the trick), yes, I know, you’re probably sick of hearing about my general malaise – believe me, I’m tired of it too (and at least you have the option of just quitting my blog – me? I’m stuck in this nightmare), but I’m choosing to believe the theory that writing is therapeutic and am therefore forcing myself to do it. Was that the world’s longest run-on sentence or what? Geesh! And are y’all familiar with my parentheses problem? Or was that on a different blog? Just in case, let me inform you, I have a bit of a parentheses problem, for which I should probably seek professional help. I’ve gotten a little better, I used to sometimes put parentheses in parentheses – i.e. here’s a sentence (that requires some parentheses (but then I remembered something else that also necessesitates the use of parentheses so I added this other set), here I am back to the original parenthethical thought) and back to the sentence. See what I mean by nightmare?

The sun is shining today, and the birds are chirping. Thanks guys, but it’s too little too late. Really. This morning when I left for work there was F R O S T on my car. It’s April 19th, mother nature, I think scraping off my windows and wearing a scarf is just a little extreme. Plus, I know it’s probably just going to rain and/or hail tonight and/or tomorrow anyway, so I’m refusing to get my hopes up. The good news is that I have a tiny sliver of what might be considered happiness blossoming in my putrid heart – just having that doctor’s appointment and knowing that I might feel better soon is making me feel better. Make sense? Whatever. Oh, and I’m going on a short vacation in a week – although I might be a little more on edge when I get back as I’m going home to spend time with my family. Don’t get me wrong, it should be fun, but a little bit crazy. Me and my brother will be staying at my mom’s house, where there is no guest room. I guess that means we’ll both be in the living room, one of us on the couch and the other on a cot. My brother’s dog will also be there and I assume he will also be sleeping on the cot. And I’m not sure, but my parents’ giant poodle might also be joining us. He usually sleeps with the ‘rents, but you never know with poodles, they’re party animals – he might want in on the action. Even if he doesn’t sleep with us, the dogs will spend the entire vacation chasing either other and barking, which gives me anxiety. Also, the house my mom and stepdad live in is under construction. In fact, every house they’ve ever lived in has been under construction. My stepdad does construction/remodeling for a living, and he’s really good at it, but somehow he never gets around to finishing their house (the last time I was there, there was a giant hole in the basement (long story, previous occupant may have been using it to bury bodies), a bunch of junk all over the porch (which makes it pretty hard to get in the house) and none of the cupboard doors were attached to the cupboards (which, if you’re in a hurry could be considered an advantage, way easier to get stuff out of the cupboards if you don’t have to open doors)) which sort of makes my mom homicidal, so yeah. Let’s hope I get my prescription filled before I get on the airplane. (p.s. – mom? I love you. Please don’t kill Paul. Or me for talking about your house on my blog. xoxo)

Today is the first day of a better week than last week. I keep telling myself that over and over again, but I still don’t think I believe it. Saturday night Jason had his first gig with the rock cover band, so my brother Andy and I went. It had all the makings of a fun activity, but I was all moody and self-conscious and didn’t want to be in public. What else is new, right? It’s almost impossible for me to have fun anymore. I just wanted to be home pouting and feeling sorry for myself, so that’s what I did yesterday. I sat on the couch and read all day, I started and finished an entire book. I did laundry too, but that was just so that I could say I accomplished something, mostly it was all about the wallowing. So I woke up today and decided I can’t do it anymore. No more wallowing! No more being miserable and tired, no more self loathing, no more. I do not have to live this way, and I don’t want to anymore. I have an appointment with my doctor on Thursday afternoon, I’ll probably be back on the crazy pills by next week.

If you were wondering where I’ve disappeared to and why, the answers are nowhere and because I just feel like shit. Honestly. I was so excited to get and be pregnant – obsessed with it, reading all of the books, trying to do everything right and then I had a fucking miscarriage and it just made me sad. And mad. I keep vacillating back and forth, angry, sad, angry, angry, sad, sad, really fucking angry, sad. And it has been raining for 3 days straight. And when I say that it has been raining for 3 days straight, I mean that it has literally been drizzling, dripping, pissing or pouring all fucking day (and all fucking night) for 3 days straight. So I’ve been plodding through the world with this infinite sadness, like a cancer, spreading around my body, my mind, my world. I can feel it, big and choking, sitting right there on my chest. I don’t notice anything around me, I do my job like a robot since it doesn’t take much of my brain power anyway, I drive on autopilot so that when I get home I don’t remember how I got there, it’s pretty awful y’all. And everybody keeps saying it’s normal to feel this way and that it’ll get better, but really? I’m not quite sure. This little incident may have been the gentle nudge that got me from almost okay to not really coping. I’m giving it another week and if I still feel like this I’m either calling the doc to get back on the meds or I’m hopping a train to some place else and never coming back.

The reason that they tell you not to announce a pregnancy until after the first trimester, or at the very least until you hear a heartbeat, is because early miscarriages are an unfortunate reality. I’ve been debating since yesterday whether I should post this or not, but writing stuff here gets it out of my head, so here’s what I wrote yesterday:

So it would seem that I’m losing my little poppy seed. I woke up this morning at 5am with a lot of bleeding and cramping. I texted my husband, asked him to call me when he woke up. He did. And was as freaked out and devastated as I am. I then called my mom, to see if this has ever happened to her before and if she had any advice, oh and because she’s my mom and that’s what you do. It hasn’t, she didn’t, but she loves me and made me feel better. I then called the on-call midwife to explain what was happening. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle by then so she said she wouldn’t jump to miscarriage just yet, but that it was clearly a cause for concern. She said I go could to the emergency room if I wanted – I don’t so I didn’t, or I could come in tomorrow for a blood test and then another one a couple of days later to see if the levels of hcg have gone up. If they haven’t, well, then it’s pretty obvious what went on. But then the bleeding returned, and the cramps, with a vengeance. I used to get really bad menstrual cramps in high school, but since then not so much. I’m one of the lucky girls whose period is just slightly annoying, but never really painful. Anyway – this feels just like a really heavy, crampy, horrible period. Even more so because I’m so sad. Honestly, it’s amazing how fast you can get attached to the idea of having a baby. I’m 5 weeks and 1 day and I just keep crying. Did I mention my husband is in Arizona? He offered to leave a day early, start driving back today instead of tomorrow, but what good would that do? He still wouldn’t be here for 2 days. So I told him no, but right now all I really want is for him to be here to hug me. I guess THIS is why they caution you not to tell people about your pregnancy until you’re through the first trimester. Jesus Christ. There’s a chic bringing me maternity clothes tomorrow.

I didn’t go to work today, obviously, and went in for my blood test, but I know in my heart that it’s done, and there will be no Christmas baby. I cried a lot yesterday, a little less today. The kind phlebotomist checking me into the lab squeezed my hand, gave me a tissue and said “I’m really sorry.” She then pushed me straight into a room and got me done and out of there so that I didn’t have to wait in a crowded room weeping in front of strangers. God bless her. My kind sister told the few people at work who knew that I was knocked up what was happening so that I don’t have to tell them tomorrow. All that’s left is for me to call my dad and I’m dreading it not because of him, but because I know that I will break down. Jason is on his way home and then we can comfort each other. I’m not sure yet when I will feel like trying again, but I’m sure the day will come.

A word of advice (take it if you will, ignore it if you won’t): if you’re pregnant? DON’T WATCH THE NOTEBOOK. Curse you, Nicholas Sparks and your cheesy, melodramatic, love stories! You can’t see me, but I’m shaking an angry fist right now. I’ve seen this movie before and I didn’t weep for an hour straight the last time. Hormones are a bitch. My husband is out of town for the weekend, so I thought it would be fun to eat m&ms and watch sappy, chick flicks – which, as Ray Ray so kindly pointed out is no different from my regular routine when he’s around, but that’s neither here nor there, it’s somehow more fun. So last night I got a frozen pizza (which I then burned off the roof of my mouth with), started up the movie and bawled through the whole thing! Okay, not the WHOLE thing, I was okay for the first 30 minutes or so, until Ali’s mean mom forces her to move back to Charleston and then hides all of Noah’s letters. Thank god no one was around to witness me sobbing uncontrollably. Well, except Lenny and Carl, the scoffing kitties with their judging eyes. Consequently, this morning I have giant, puffy eyes. Add that to the angry “blemish” (gigantic, oozing scab that I caused by poking at and fiddling with what started out as a small pimple and consequently it is the size of Texas) on my chin and the 100lbs of water I’m retaining and let’s just say I’m glad my husband is out of town, otherwise he might take one look at me and run screaming in the other direction. I think I may take this opportunity to frame and hang some of our wedding photos so that for the next 8 months he can gaze at them and remember how pretty I once was.

Not last night but the night before I had the most idiotic dream that we had the baby and were taking care of it and loving it, but somehow we had forgotten to purchase and provide any of the essentials – like it was a total surprise that I had given birth and we were like “oh no, we don’t have a crib.” I spent half the dream wandering around searching for a diaper. I’m sure I have 35 more weeks of nightmares to look forward to as I begin to realize that I have no idea how to be a mother. Unless you count taking care of 2 cats as preparation. Which I don’t. Speaking of 35 weeks, the way that they figure out pregnancy length is pretty wacky. A pregnancy is estimated to be around 40 weeks long, but they start the count at your last menstrual period, which means that for the first 2 weeksish of your pregnancy you’re not even really pregnant. So I’m 5 weeks pregnant today, but the wee un has probably only been in there for 3. And you’re considered full term at 37 weeks. If you give birth anywhere between 37 and 42 it’s considered normal and healthy. So your due date is really just a suggestion, a hint, a clue as to which 4 week period you may give birth in. They should call it a due window. Whatever.

I went to Wal Mart at lunch yesterday, and THAT almost made me burst into tears. Not really, but have you seen this crazy place? I don’t go there often because it actually frightens me, but I was possessed by the idea of some inexpensive (cheap, shitty) clothes for the 2 weeks of spring and 4 weeks of summer that we’ll soon be having in Portland (it was FINALLY sunny and 60 degrees yesterday! Ignore the fact that it’s supposed to start raining again any minute now). I’ve gained some weight so I won’t fit into last year’s clothes, but I’m obviously going to be gaining more weight soon, so I didn’t want to spend a bunch of money on things that I have no idea how often I’ll get to wear before I’m plunged into highly attractive maternity clothes. So I went to Wal Mart. I found some almost cute things and they were pretty cheap, but I’m not sure it’s worth the terror. The people, the employees, the SHIT they’re selling? It’s like a different planet. I always wondered where people got those creepy tee-shirts that say things like “World’s Best Grandma” in shiny, metallic letters. And almost all of their pants had elastic waists, even the ones in regular sizes – somebody please explain this to me?

And finally, my lack of morning sickness has still got me a little panicked. I know, nobody wishes for morning sickness, but I just happened to read somewhere in one of my pregnancy books that some doctors consider morning sickness a sign of a healthy pregnancy, that it means the placenta is growing healthily or something like that. Thanks, pregnancy book for presenting yet another reason for me to panic. I’ve had maybe 5 seconds of slight queasiness a couple of times, absolutely no nausea or vomiting so far. I guess most people start experiencing it at around week 5, 6 or 7 so there’s still time, but if it never shows up do I have to wonder for 8 months (35 weeks) whether my damn placenta is inefficient?

…I’m posting a post. She is apparently bored and doesn’t want to study. So here I am, enabling her to be a terrible student. At this rate she’ll never be Grissom, but I’m neither her mother nor her lover, so what do I care? She wants me to write about work (which could be part of her evil plot to get me fired) and the troll who is currently making her life hell, but I vowed never to write about work again, so I’m not going to. I did forget to mention some stuff and things when I was blogging the other day, so I’ll take this opportunity. If I did indeed mention any of these things already, blame the Pregnancy Forgetfulness, and forgive me. Ah, as an update, Ray Ray has informed me that she isn’t studying for her Grissom classes, she is studying for her pharmacy technician license. As someone who has one of those, and who studied for a mere 15 minutes the night before taking the test, I feel a lot less guilty about distracting her. So. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah. My grandmother. I’ve mentioned her before, she just had her 77th birthday – FUCK YEAH! After I called my mom to inform her of the blastocyst implanting in my uterus, I got ready and drove to work. I then texted and requested that she (my mother, not the blastocyst) not tell Grandma, because I’m going to be there in 3 weeks and it’ll be fun to tell her in person. Her reply? Too late, I already told her, she’s crocheting a baby afghan as we speak. This little one is going to be Grandma’s very first great grandchild – how cool is that? Also, there’s this really awesome thing that happens when you get pregnant. Any woman who has been pregnant is super excited about it and happy for you, and they’re all so effing generous! Jason’s sister Stephanie is sending him home with a combination stroller/car seat contraption, a pack and play and a baby backpack. A friend at work who just had a baby a year ago offered to lend me some maternity clothes if they fit. And I’ve only told a few people so far. What will happen when I tell the world?

Okay, technically I guess I’m a fetus blogger. Wait. At this point it’s still an embryo, so I’m an embryo blogger. Until week 13? Or something? Ask the Christian Coalition, they know when life begins. Oh shit. I went there. People are going to find me and hang me.

So before I start this thing (that last thing wasn’t a start, it was an aside), let me just say that I’m tired. Like, T I R E D. On top of rarely sleeping because I’ve been a terrible insomniac for most of my adult life (and actually most of my childhood if my mother is to be believed) I can now add pregnancy as a reason for crushing exhaustion, as my body is nothing but a vessel now. All of my resources are being used for constructing a suitable home for the young ‘un. Every morsel of food that I eat (and by the way, I’m frickin’ starving all the effing time. really. I just ate and already I’m hungry), every ounce of energy that I might create through processing the morsels goes directly to building that placenta. Not to mention the baby’s brain, eyes, feet, fingernails, digestive tract etc. Add to that the fact that Jason left this morning for his highway adventure so I had to get up at 4 something to get him to the airport on time. TIRED. All of that so that you’ll realize that if this post sounds like the pyschotic ramblings of a nut job, well then it’ll be no different than usual so what am I worrying for?

I’m still pregnant. While you slap your forehead and say duh! I’ll explain why that’s a miracle. Because I, Anjeanette, am a freak and I panic about everything. Suddenly I’m afraid that I’m not really a pregnant, that the whole missing-a-period-and-having-positive-pregnancy-tests is a cruel hoax, a fluke if you will. Or I’m afraid that I’ll miscarry. Or that it’s ectopic. Or that SOMETHING TERRIBLE IS GOING TO HAPPEN ANY DAMN MINUTE. Yeah, I know, your attitude is that if I think about and worry about these things that I’ll bring them on myself, right? Like worrying about things makes them come true. Think positively blah blah. Well guess what? I have found that the opposite holds true for me. When I worry and stew and freak the fuck out about things, they almost never come true. So don’t give me any lip. Yesterday when I called to make my first appointment with the midwives (yes midwives – again, don’t give me any lip) the phone-answering gentleman (do they call them receptionists anymore? even when they’re male? or is that an offensive term like stewardess? is he a phone attendant?) queried “okay, so you’ve had at least two positive home pregnancy tests, correct?” and I was like “yes I have”, but I didn’t tell him about the one negative one, because the negative one might negate one of the positive ones and then I’m really not pregnant, because a negative test would somehow give me a bad grade on my pregnancy, because I was afraid he’d tell me I wasn’t REALLY pregnant unless they were all positive, because I’m a giant, freaky boob of a first time mom. The question only added to the mounting paranoia. So I think I might take another test this weekend. Just to make sure. After all, I have that spare one lying around. And technically it was free. Right? I gotta go take a nap, otherwise I’ll never make it through Idol.

Okay, I’m ready to talk about it. The weekend, the ups and downs, the stuff, the things. So. I believe that I’ve maybe mentioned once or twice before that I was trying to get pregnant? Right. Well. I had a pregnancy test laying around – a while back I had a late period so I took a test – I wasn’t pregnant, but they come 2 to a package so I had a spare. In the interest of being cheap I was just going to wait until it was the right time to test and then use that one. Then 2 weeks ago I got all antsy and was like “I’ll do it just for FUN! Maybe it will be positive!!” even though it was like 17 hours after I had maybe ovulated and therefore it would never in a million years be positive. It wasn’t. That’s one pregnancy test, used and gone. My rationale was that I’d already spent the money, right? And that I would purchase only one more, and it would be from one of the dollar stores (I won’t name names, in case they have spies). Only a buck. Who cares about a buck? What does a buck buy anymore? I’ve probably got a buck in change in the ashtray of my car! So I bought one, and stuffed it in my medicine cabinet, promising myself to wait until it was an appropriate time (which, in case you don’t know, is the day after your period is due – TWO WEEKS AFTER OVULATION). Then last week after being touched and poked in inappropriate places I wanted to know. I don’t know what it was about needles in my pooper that made me think “hey, NOW is a good time”, but there it is. So I did it. Yes, right after I posted this:

I think I’m going to do it Saturday morning before Jason wakes up – don’t tell him. His birthday is Sunday, but we’re celebrating on Saturday, so it’ll be a present.

It was negative. Obviously. IDIOT. It wasn’t even TIME yet! Plus, it was in the evening! Everybody knows you’re supposed to use first morning’s urine (the best urine!). DUH. That’s 2 pregnancy tests used and gone – total cost $1.00. As punishment, I decided I wasn’t allowed to test again until Sunday morning, not Saturday as originally planned. This would officially be day 29 of my cycle, the first day of a missed period (if your cycles are 28 days, mine are usually 24, but who’s counting?). As extra torture, I made myself wait until Saturday to buy another one so that I wouldn’t be tempted to use it before the morning.

Saturday night I woke from a dead sleep in the middle of the night and had only one thought “I’m pregnant” – I have no idea if I was dreaming or if God was talking to me (hey, it could happen), or if I was obsessing so much that I had convinced myself, but I just knew it. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Next morning I woke up at 5:30 as per usual. Normally I lie around for a good 10-15 minutes hoping I’ll trick myself into falling back asleep (it never ever works – either I’m too awake or I’ve got to pee or the kitties sense my consciousness and start scratching and meowwwling) but I popped right out of bed, peed in a cup, plopped a few drops in the ol’ tester and prepared to watch the magic! 3 minutes, tick, tock. It was negative. Are you fucking kidding me? NEGATIVE? My heart broke just a little. I snuck out of the room and let Jason sleep in for his birthday, and to nurse my broken heart in private for a while. And that’s another pregnancy test used and gone. Another dollar. When Jason got up I told him the news. Sigh. I had so wanted to wake him up with a “happy birthday! I’m PREGNANT!!” He blamed the still remaining nameless dollar store. They had to be crappy, right? They were only a dollar? Maybe they were expired? Maybe they were shoddy? No, I had asked the internet – they’re great! They’re wonderful! Mine was positive and my baby is sitting here next to me on the couch! I always use them, why pay more? The internet looooooved them, and the internet is always right! Suddenly a thought smacked me in the face. The back of the cheap piss test said “read test results after 3 minutes. do not read results after 10 minutes”. What? Are you kidding me? Most tests give you a written in stone minute count, READ AT EXACTLY TWO MINUTES, NO MORE NO LESS, what was up with read at 3, but not after 10? Would it change? So I did what you are never, ever supposed to do, and dug the test out of the garbage. There was an ever so faint line. Was it a between 3 and 10 minutes positive line? Or was it an after 10 minutes evaporation line? STOP FUCKING WITH ME.

I tried to tell myself that if I didn’t start my period by Tuesday I would buy a real test and take it Wednesday morning (Tuesday is payday), but I was obsessed, and I couldn’t take it. Obviously, the only appropriate reaction to the situation was to spend money that I didn’t have so that I could eat pizza flavored Doritos and Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi, and get a real effing pregnancy test from a real effing store, that I could then use in the morning. I wasn’t going to be bossed around by no cheap ass pregnancy test! Off we stormed to Safeway – home of cheap Doritos and honest pregnancy tests. I grabbed a box of name brand tests, normally 12 bucks but on sale for 10, normally 2 in a package but an extra thrown in for free! I ate lots of Doritos and a big glug of Pepsi. We watched a movie. Jason announced that it was guitar practicing time. I obsessively googled about pregnancy tests and false negatives and post 10 minute evaporation lines and then, then the justification began again. The 3rd one was free, so I could use it right? Just use it right then even though it wasn’t first morning’s urine (THE BEST URINE) and if it was negative then I’d try again in the morning. Before I even realized I was doing it I was in the bathroom, peeing in another cup, dipping another stick, watching it as the seconds rolled by. And BOY if it didn’t turn positive as soon as the pee washed over the window. I’m not kidding, it was positive by 45 seconds. I danced around watching the timer tick away, just to make sure, then rushed into the music room, plopped it down in front of soon-to-be Daddy and said HAPPY BIRTHDAY, I’M PREGNANT!!!!! I think he sputtered and stammered a bit in Hugh Grant fashion, and then said “what? how can it be negative and positive in the same day, are you sure? what’s happening, what’s going on, the earth is ending, HOW CAN THIS BE???” (author’s note: he’s not that dramatic, ever, but this is my story so shut up and listen). I explained about evaporation lines and shitty, cheap, lying pregnancy tests and said “fine, I’ll do it again in the morning if you want, just to make sure”. And I did. And it was positive again. Y’all, I’m gettin’ a baby for Christmas!

Here’s some crappy, hard to see photos, in case you were interested. Oh, and in case you were keeping track that’s a total of 5 tests taken. Obsess much?

Sorry about the cryptic silence all weekend. It was a weird weekend, some ups, some downs, some all arounds. Jason had a happy birthday, but he got a little… philosophical (read as weird – but don’t tell him I said so) as we all are wont to do on our birthdays – here we are, getting older, wondering where we’re going etc, but we also had lots of fun. I was going to write this last night, but the internet was just not cooperating around here, so hey, I can’t sleep much past 5:14 anyway (and usually it’s 4:30, so I’ll take it) so here I am. Unfortunately, I’m not ready to talk about anything yet, but rest assured that I shall (I will say that I’ve spent more money on pregnancy tests than I wanted to – $13.00 to be exact. So much for being cheap). For right now, we’ve actually had a few almost warm days with relatively little rain and that, my friends, means that it’s almost spring in Portland. Okay, this IS spring in Portland, but it will hopefully get warmer and more delightful. There are birds chirping outside and the sun isn’t even up yet. I might run out there and hug them. (did you see how I changed the subject there?)

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